Every soul's of assuaged boredom causa lamb-litter un-
verity post-gore vim spousage mock up, or happily may
be so politely, one life on the trot (n). That single
wren in the stars attests. Blow-dry apocalypse veer rate
sunk down, a level zero. Sometimes hatred appalls me,
grated into sickness like cheddar. Prophecy n-1 via thistlewarp
screw cluster alpha party-lark (n), this is your longer
lasting esprit-indent permit, should it be, heads or tails. Chop
sauce alarm! pasty and inappetent! Shied in-
cestial glades bewray, despite release #! she's frigid eye-blood.
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